


Lay Your Hands On Me

by Hazel_Athena



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M, Massage, Minor Angst, PWP, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: "Oh." Faraday says, quieter now. He frowns thoughtfully, a sight that instantly makes Vasquez suspicious. "You mean you're tense, is that it?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt I received aggggeessss ago involving Vasquez being in pain and the offer of a massage. This was not supposed to end in sexytimes for the record, yet here we are. Hopefully, the prompter will enjoy.

Vasquez has been tense ever since the … incident a little while back. At first he doesn’t realize how much of an effect it’s had on him, but as the seven of them travel on, day by day and side by side, he starts to chafe. His muscles go taught, not because of the hard days on the open road but because of the tension that’s lodged itself somewhere around his spine and refuses to come out. Eventually it starts making him irritable, snapping at those around him and getting to the point where no one complains when he decides to avoid the saloon their first night back in a town and make for their boarding house instead.

 

That is, almost no one.

 

When Vasquez stomps up to the room they’ll be sharing for the night - their rooming arrangements having long fallen into a pattern after months of the seven of them travelling together - Faraday isn’t far behind. In all honesty, Vasquez had been expecting the other man to remain over in the saloon, if for no other reason than to escape his own less than pleasant company for a while, but instead Faraday’s practically right on his heels, complaining all the way.

 

"You've had a fuckin' bee in your bonnet all night! If not longer.” He barks as they make their way inside and he’s able to slam the door closed behind them. “All of the others have noticed, but those bastards are lucky enough to not be stuck havin’ to sleep near you tonight and I’m tired of this crap. The fuck's the matter with you?"

 

Vasquez flaps a hand irritably, wishing it wasn't painfully obvious that Faraday's not going to drop the topic unless he gets an answer. "It's nothing, guero." He says finally. "I'm just ... stiff."

 

It's a testament to how serious Faraday is right now that he lets that line pass him by without so much as a smirk. Normally some reference to any part of any person being stiff would invoke a whole host of lewd comments from the gambler. Tonight, however, nothing. 

 

"What do you mean - stiff?" He asks, instead. "You're not talkin' sense, Vas."

 

Vasquez uses the same hand from before to gesture at himself, and at his neck and shoulders in particular. "Everything is ... uncomfortable. I do not know what I did," he adds, although that part is a lie, "but it's all ... all locked up."

 

"Oh." Faraday says, quieter now. He frowns thoughtfully, a sight that instantly makes Vasquez suspicious. "You mean you're tense, is that it?"

 

"Si, yes, tense is one way to put it." It's not strong enough to describe what he's feeling, though, not really. Tension is uncomfortable, but he can deal with it until it goes away. This, whatever it is, is different. It's like an iron weight that's latched itself to his shoulders and won't leave him alone no matter what he does.

 

"I just ... don't feel right," is what he settles on when Faraday won't stop looking at him. "Everything is apretado. Tight." He clarifies when Faraday looks at him in confusion. “Like I can’t breathe properly.”

 

"Okay." Faraday says slowly. He cocks his head, his expression turning thoughtful. "How long has this been goin' on? Because you've been actin' like a bear with a toothache for over a week now, ever since Casper Hills."

 

Vasquez makes a face at him. He hadn't realized Faraday'd become so in tune with his moods, enough that he’d noticed when the trouble began. That was a mistake on his part. Careless. "It might have started around then." He hedges, unwilling to cop to anything more.

 

Faraday snorts. "That's as good an admission as I've ever heard. You know what it probably is, don't you? You've got yourself tied into a knot thanks to that asshole bounty hunter we ran into. You're walkin' around waitin' for the other shoe to drop."

 

Vasquez is even less pleased about Faraday correctly jumping to that conclusion than he was about the previous one. "I doubt that is it, guero." He lies. "If this happened every time somebody who wanted the price on my head got near me, I would have felt this way for years."

 

"Bullshit." Faraday replies, calling Vasquez out effortlessly. "You're such a fuckin' liar, you jackass. You told me yourself way back in Rose Creek that Sam was the first bounty hunter to ever get the drop on you, which makes last week's asshole only number two. You ain't used to havin' someone get that close, Vas, and I'll bet all the whiskey I have on me it's what the problem is."

 

"It's not like you to part with your whiskey so easily, guero." Vasquez says, still trying to play it off like Faraday hasn't aimed straight at the heart of the issue and then scored a direct hit. 

 

Faraday rolls his eyes. "I'm not partin' with it at all. The reason bein', I'm right, and you're lyin' through your teeth."

 

"Fine." Vasquez grunts, officially tired of discussing the matter. "You are right. I am not happy about what happened. It was uncomfortable and, si, frightening, and I am not enjoying dealing with the consequences. Are you happy now?"

 

"Of course I ain't happy." Faraday snaps. His face is starting to go blotchy the way it does when that damnable Irish temper of his begins to get the better of him. The man's going to be forever doomed to have his fair skin tone tell the world exactly how he's feeling. 

 

Unaware of where Vasquez's thoughts have gone, Faraday keeps talking, undeterred in the face of the other man's silence. "You've  been takin' your damn mood out on the whole crew, not to mention yours truly here in particular, and it's gotta stop. Plus," he adds, and here his voice shifts subtly, like he's admitting to something he'd much rather not, "I can't say I much like the idea of you goin' around carryin' all that on your shoulders. S'not right, you feelin' like that."

 

It takes Vasquez a moment to realize this is Faraday's way of admitting he cares about him, and he feels his own face heat when he clues in. He clears his throat awkwardly. "That's - that's kind of you to say, and I ... apologize ... if I've been a little much lately, but I don't know how to make it stop."

 

Admitting that is one of the most difficult things he's done in a long while, but fair is fair. If Faraday can as good as say he's worried about him, then Vasquez can say he's sorry for his behaviour. 

 

Vasquez sighs, now just feeling tired. "If you have any suggestions for how to fix it, I'm all ears."

 

"Do you ... well ... I mean, I could give you a massage?" Faraday's face flushes a truly remarkable shade of red following this offer, and Vasquez is torn between laughing at him or stuttering in embarrassment himself when he realizes the offer is genuine.

 

"Uh, that's - that's very kind of you, guero," he says once he's found his voice, "but I wouldn't want to put you through the trouble."

 

Now Faraday scowls. "It ain't any trouble." He huffs, annoyed. "I wouldn't've offered if it was, and it might help. If nothin' else it'll bleed some of the tension off, and maybe make you a mite less irritable."

 

"Besides which," and here he perks up a bit, that teasing grin of his blossoming into place as he finds a way to make a joke of things, "I am damn good with my hands. Bet I have you meltin' under me before we're halfway through."

 

Vasquez can't help but laugh at that. Trust Faraday to take a situation such as this and somehow find a way to make it even more ridiculous. "I think you are all talk, guero." He says, giving in to Faraday's antics at least a little. "You make noise about being the world's greatest lover, but I've never seen any evidence of this."

 

Faraday's eyes narrow the way they always do whenever someone says something he takes as a challenge. "Well," he says slowly, "I was just talkin' about a back rub, but we can work our way up from there if you like."

 

Vasquez snorts. This conversation is degenerating into something even more foolish than usual, which is saying something for them. 

 

He says as much aloud, and Faraday snorts in return. "We'll see about that. Come on, sit down and let me show you what these hands can do."

 

It's ridiculous, the very notion of what Faraday's proposing. The odds of it helping are slim to none as far as Vasquez is concerned, and who knows what kind of consequences it might have. Still, he finds he's powerless to resist the earnest gaze Faraday is directing his way, so he sighs.

 

" _Fine_." He says, the word slipping out before he's made a conscious decision to allow it to do so. "Where do you want me?"

 

Faraday gives him a salacious wink that almost sees Vasquez call the whole thing off, but then he's grabbing one of the room's wooden chairs and hauling it back from behind the table. "Here." He says, voice sounding triumphant as he gestures Vasquez over. "Sit."

 

"No, not that way." He adds when Vasquez moves to do as he's told and drop down into the chair like he normally would. Faraday holds up a hand and swivels a finger in a quick arc. "Go back to front. That way you can prop your arms up on the back of it, and I'll have better access."

 

"You are taking this far too seriously, Faraday." Vasquez tells him, but he nevertheless positions himself the way the other man has indicated, settling himself with the front of his chest up against the back of the chair and his arms resting on the top.

 

Faraday flashes one of his more wicked grins. "As far as I'm concerned we've got a wager on now, and it's one I aim to win."

 

Vasquez rumbles out a laugh, and realizes he's feeling better already. If Faraday truly is determined to follow through on his offer to make Vasquez melt in his hands, that’s a wager he might just win. And shouldn't that thought worry him more than it did.

 

"What're you going to want from me if I lose, guero?" He asks, and Faraday chuckles behind him, the sound somehow managing to be soothing for all that it'd likely get Vasquez's back up coming from anybody else. 

 

"Nothin' too strenuous," he says amiably, "I'll let you know once we're done. Now, take your vest off, will you? And your shirt too."

 

Having been about to comment that Faraday was a dangerous man to owe an unknown favour to, Vasquez is thrown off balance by this latest command. "Que? Why?"

 

"Because I ain't in the habit of half-assin' a job once I put my mind to it, and all that material's goin' to get in the way." He tugs lightly at the back of Vasquez's shirt collar for emphasis. "C'mon, off with the lot of it."

 

Vasquez hesitates for a moment or two, secure in the knowledge that however this plays out tonight, things are going to irrevocably change between them once they’re through, but then decides he's okay with that. Leaning back to give himself some room, he makes quick work of the buttons on his vest, shrugging out of it with little difficulty after they're free.

 

Faraday surprises him by reaching out to take the heavy fabric without being asked, and surprises him further still when he moves to drape it carefully over the back of the room's remaining chair rather than just tossing it to the floor. Vasquez watches him curiously, now totally convinced that the gambler is up to something, but instead of saying anything, sets about removing his shirt as well.

 

"Very nice." Faraday lets out a low whistle once the shirt's off, and Vasquez responds by rolling it up into a ball and lobbing it at his face. 

 

"Honestly." Faraday grumbles, catching the mess of linen before it can connect. "You try and pay a man a compliment."

 

Vasquez rolls his eyes and settles down to lean against the back of the chair again, waving one arm in a 'let's get this started' kind of gesture. "Come on, guero. Why don't you use that phrase you are so fond of and put your money where your mouth is?"

 

Shockingly, especially given the turn the evening seems to be taking, Faraday resists the no doubt intense urge to make a crack about all the things he could do with his mouth. The others would be so proud if they knew. Not to mention amazed.

 

He hears Faraday shift behind him, but one thing Vasquez hadn’t considered prior to agreeing to this is that he can’t see what Faraday’s doing. It’s never been in his nature to expose himself to another person, not even before there was a warrant on his head, and that’s why, even though he knows the touch is coming, he still startles when Faraday’s hands land on him for the first time.

 

“Easy.” Faraday says, and he runs a soothing hand along Vasquez’s flank for reasons he can’t quite fathom. “It’s just me.”

 

Faraday’s hands, as callused as they are from a life spent wielding guns or wrapped around a horse’s reins, are surprisingly gentle when they curl over Vasquez’s shoulders. “Where’s the worst of it?” He asks. His voice is hushed, like he’s afraid to raise up to its usual timber, and Vasquez shudders without meaning to.

 

“The – the base of my neck.” He says finally, trying to focus on answering the question rather than anything else. He brings an arm up and flaps one hand at the spot indicated. “Right there.”

 

“Hmm.” Faraday hums thoughtfully, and then digs his fingers into where the worst of the tension has been lodged since Casper Hills. Vasquez can’t help but grunt at the pressure, and Faraday lets out a whistle. “Yeah, I’d say that’s a bit of a mess. Jesus, you’re coiled up like a fuckin’ spring.”

 

It’s on the tip of Vasquez’s tongue to respond, but Faraday kneads at a particularly tough knot and instead he chokes out a moan without meaning to as the whole mess unravels, leaving him breathless. Behind him, Faraday murmurs something comforting that Vasquez’s brain point blank refuses to acknowledge and keeps going. “No wonder you’ve been in such a shit awful mood if you’ve been carryin’ this mess around with you for days. I’d’ve probably hauled off and shot somebody by now.”

 

“You’ll shoot someone for anything.” Vasquez slurs. He’d be embarrassed about that, and might still be when he thinks of it later, but for now he’s basking in the feeling of the tension bleeding out of his body as Faraday coaxes more and more of it away.

 

“Feelin’ any better?” Faraday asks after a few more minutes have ticked by. His hands, hands that Vasquez had never realized how capable they were until now, are rubbing over the meat of Vasquez’s shoulders, determined to find any place aches and pains might yet be hiding.

 

“Stop and _I_ will shoot _you_.” Vasquez responds. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt this good, and if Faraday tries to take that away from him he will not be held responsible for his actions.

 

“No need of that.” Faraday quips, apparently unaware of where Vasquez’s thoughts have gone. “I’m always happy to have an appreciative audience.”

 

He dips his hands along Vasquez’s lower back, and Vasquez arches into the touch like a cat seeking attention. “Guero -” He starts, and Faraday murmurs wordless sounds of comfort in his ear, his breath warm as it ghosts over Vasquez’s neck.

 

“S’alright.” He rumbles, and Vasquez can practically feel it, they’re so close together now. “Still can’t quite get all of it ‘cause of how you’re sittin’, but we’ll do what we can, yeah?”

 

“You like it though, don’t you?” He continues on, seemingly oblivious to the way he’s reducing Vasquez to putty in his hands. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

 

Vasquez mumbles out an approving sound, and Faraday wraps his hands warm and possessive over his shoulders. “Why didn’t you say anythin’ was wrong?” Faraday asks then. “I mean, all the snappin’ and growlin’ you’ve been doin’ made it pretty clear somethin’ was up with you, but not what it was.”

 

Shrugging’s a little difficult because of the way Faraday’s hands are weighing him down, but Vasquez does his best. “Didn’t seem that important.” He says, and even that small of an admission is more than he’d usually be willing to make. “I figured it’d pass eventually.”

 

“Sure.” Faraday agrees, and does something to the small of his back that makes Vasquez have to bite back a yelp and then sigh back into the touch. “But by the time that happened, we’d all be at each other’s throats. Better to be honest about what’s goin’ on, don’t you think?”

 

Vasquez snorts out a laugh. “That is rich coming from you, guero. You hide everything under that gambler’s mask of yours.”

 

Faraday makes a thoughtful noise and somehow finds a way to lean in even closer. “Not hidin’ anythin’ tonight, am I?”

 

His voice is low, and sends a shiver up Vasquez’s spine that tells him enough is enough. Twisting in his seat, he hooks an arm around the back of Faraday’s neck as best as he’s able and drags him in for a kiss, enjoying the way Faraday makes a startled sound and then almost immediately melts into the motion.

 

“For the record, this is not what I was after when I followed you up here.” Faraday says when they break apart. “Same goes for when I offered you a helpin’ hand. My intentions were pure.”

 

Vasquez grins up at him, and moves to follow him when he tries to shift back. “You’ve never had pure intentions in your life. Besides, do I look like I’m complaining?” He asks, nipping at Faraday’s jaw when he can reach it again.

 

Faraday hisses but stops trying to pull away and in fact leans into the touch. “You don’t,” he admits, "but I want to make the point regardless.”

 

“The point has been made, guero.” Vasquez informs him. “If not entirely believed. Now stop playing.”

 

“I ain’t playin’,” Faraday growls, “and for the record, you can call me Joshua.”

 

Vasquez frowns at this. He’s known Faraday’s given name since Rose Creek, but neither he nor any of their fellows has ever been invited to use it. “You never go by that name.”

 

“I do in select circumstances.” Faraday assures him. “Now, c’mere. Get up.”

 

Still pondering this latest turn of events, Vasquez lets himself be hauled to his feet and then shoved unceremoniously in the direction of the closest bed. “You don’t think you’re moving a little fast, Faraday?” He asks as his back hits the mattress. He doesn’t think he can work his way up to using the man’s first name yet, but his surname at least is familiar.

 

“I will move exactly as fast as you’ll let me and no faster.” Faraday replies. He pauses just long enough to tug his boots off, Vasquez mirroring the motion when he realizes how good an idea it is, and then climbs onto the bed himself. “You say go, I go. You say stop, I stop. Though, just so we’re clear, I know _plenty_ of tricks that are good for relievin’ tension.”

 

“Yes?” Vasquez asks feeling short of breath as Faraday moves to settle between the spread of his legs. “You gonna show me?”

 

“If you like.” Faraday says easily. He stretches up and cups Vasquez’s face in his hands, bringing him in for another kiss. It’s hot and just this side of vicious, exactly how he’d imagined Faraday would kiss in the secret moments when he’d considered as much, and is everything he’d needed tonight without realizing it.

 

“I like.” He says when Faraday shifts to leave a trail of heated kisses down the length of his throat. “I _want_.”

 

For the first time since they’d started this whatever-it-is, Faraday’s the one who shudders, the movement wracking through his whole body as it passes. Pleased to have elicited such a response, Vasquez tangles a hand in the man’s hair and pulls at the auburn strands to see what will happen. He’s not expecting the way Faraday gasps, his eyes fluttering closed as his shuddering gets worse, but nor does he regret it.

 

“You’re full of surprises tonight, Faraday.” He murmurs, more pleased by the man’s reaction than he can say.

 

Faraday laughs and ducks down to worry his teeth over the column of Vasquez’s throat. “That’s me.” He agrees, flicking his tongue over the spot as Vasquez groans. “Always keepin’ people on their toes.”

 

“Si, always.” Vasquez agrees.

 

He feels it when Faraday’s hands land on his belt and his stomach muscles clench as blood rushes to his groin. “Guero.” He hisses, short and sharp.

 

Faraday’s hands pull back as quickly as they’d appeared. “That not okay?” He asks, eying Vasquez worriedly.

 

“It’s okay, more than,” Vasquez insists, “but only if you’re going to follow through.”

 

Faraday gives him a half-hearted glare that he punctuates with a smack to Vasquez’s hip. “The hell kind of person do you think I am?” He asks, his glare intensifying. “I ain’t left you hangin’ yet tonight, and I’m not about to start now, jackass.”

 

Vasquez bucks his hips up to illustrate how he disagrees with this point, and Faraday growls at him. “The more you squirm, the harder you’re goin’ to make this.”

 

Faraday leans down again, and curls his hands around Vasquez’s belt once more. This time when Vasquez shudders under him, he doesn’t pull back, and instead starts undoing the buckle with the kind of finesse he usually saves for making playing cards glide through his fingers, over and over with no one the wiser that he’s using them as a distraction more than anything else.

 

Once the belt and ever-present sash are gone, tossed onto the floor with little concern on either of their parts, Faraday stops for a moment to steal another one of those searing kisses, and then returns his attention to where it should be. He shoves Vasquez’s pants down past his thighs, freeing his now straining cock, and wraps his lips around the head, suckling gently.

 

Vasquez whimpers, there’s no other word for it, and bites his lip to try and keep anymore sounds from escaping. His hands fist in the bedding beneath him, fingers spasming without his consent, and throws his head back as Faraday takes him in deeper, the warm, wet heat of him surrounding Vasquez and driving him to distraction.

 

One of Faraday’s hands curves over Vasquez’s hip, clamping down hard enough to hold him in place as he tries to buck up into Faraday’s mouth, desperate for more. “I said no movin’, sweetheart.” He says, pulling back just enough to get the words out. “Hold still, would you?”

 

“Te quedas quieto.” Vasquez shoots back, not caring that Faraday can’t understand him. He shoves at Faraday as best as he’s able, making it clear through his actions that he’d prefer it if the other man returned to what he was doing. “Faraday!”

 

“That’s me.” Faraday chuckles, and then swirls his tongue over the head of Vasquez’s cock, laughing again when he swears. “Though I distinctly remember sayin’ you could call me somethin’ else.”

 

“I will call you many things if you don’t – _ugh_ – don’t maldita. Guero, juro por Dios … just _move_.” Vasquez punctuates this last word with an attempted kick at the other man, but Faraday just ducks easily out of the way, his eyes bright with laughter.

 

“Now settle down, sweetheart. There’s no call for this kind of behaviour.” Faraday sucks a kiss into the jut of Vasquez’s hip, laughing again when Vasquez swears at him some more. “You’re goin’ to ruin all my hard work.” He chides. “Gettin’ yourself all worked up again.”

 

Vasquez curls his hands around the bed’s headboard because if he doesn’t there’s a very good chance he’s going to try and wrap them around Faraday’s throat instead. He should have known the man would never be able to do anything other than make an utter nuisance of himself, even in a situation such as this.

 

“Faraday,” he says finally, wishing his breathing wasn’t as ragged as it is since there’s no way the idiot between his legs isn’t going to get all smug about it, “if you do not get back to what you started _right now_ , I will steal every last one of Goodnight’s smokes and tell Billy you did it.”

 

The bark of laugher Faraday lets out hits Vasquez like a punch to the gut, but then he puts his mouth back where it should be and Vasquez is too busy moaning into the night to say anything further.

 

When Vasquez comes it’s with a bitten off cry that he stifles with his own hand over his mouth, not wanting to alert anyone else to what they’ve been up to. Faraday pulls off to stroke him through the aftershocks, grinning up at him as he sucks another bruise into the planes of Vasquez’s stomach, and then bites down sharply in the same spot. “I’m goin’ to be seein’ that in my dreams for months to come.” He adds when Vasquez finally stops shuddering and has instead been reduced to panting heavily up at the ceiling. “Damn, but you are a hell of a sight right now.”

 

Vasquez waves a hand feebly at him, and then gets more insistent when he realizes Faraday has a hand down his own breeches and is working himself towards completion. “I can …” He starts to say, but Faraday cuts him off with a jerk of his head and a heated kiss.

 

“No, sweetheart,” he says, his voice getting tight as he gets close, “we’re makin’ tonight all about you. Don’t worry, I’ll let you make it up to me another time.”

 

Vasquez is reasonably certain he’d never agreed to such terms, but he forgets all about that when Faraday moves in for another kiss, licking his way into Vasquez’s mouth like he belongs there, like he never plans to leave. Either one or both of them groans into the kiss, and then Faraday’s pulling back with a gasp as he spills messily all over his own hand and part of Vasquez’s stomach.

 

“Fuck.” He pants, wiping his hand over the rumpled sheets before landing on Vasquez in a collapse that’s slow enough for him to get out of the way if he so chooses. “I can honestly say I didn’t see that one comin’ at the start of the evenin’.”

 

Tired as he is, Vasquez still manages to bark out a laugh at this declaration. “You started it.” He points out, although there’s no real heat in his words. For the first time in days, maybe longer, he feels totally relaxed, almost to the point that he’s boneless with it. “You are the only man in the world who would suggest fucking my worries away.”

 

“I am not even close to the only man who would suggest that.” Faraday insists. “I had better, however, be the only man you’d let actually do it.”

 

Vasquez raises his head up off the pillow at this, and peers at his companion in the dim light of the room. Faraday gazes back at him impassively, unusually silent for a man such as him. After a moment, Vasquez grins and flops back down against the pillows. “Alright,” he tells the ceiling as Faraday snakes a hand possessively around his waist, “only you.”


End file.
